Don’t take the player home

Every woman’s worst pitfall is becoming the notch in a man’s belt.

For every woman entertains a morsel of romance to every affair encountered – regardless of its sordid nature or spontaneous eruption of desire. There must be an after-taste of purity that leaves a woman satisfied she was the one for whatever fleeting exchange of physical intimacy that occurred.

A woman in these instances is like an instrument that likes to be played well. She likes to be appreciated in producing the purest of sounds to appreciating ears. She is often giving in a good performance. It is music that tames the savage beast after all.

And that’s why players live such busy lives for the many instruments they get to play.

The temptation and desire for sweet, sweet music sometimes overcomes a woman’s instinctual nurturing of their long-term wellbeing.

I don’t think players are faltered by the creeping years of age and sensibility; they are just exempt from the fine-tuned performances of the women they seek.

It’s a catch twenty-two. The more a woman holds onto the purity and integrity of her performance, the more attractive she becomes to these players. It is the ultimate ticket they chase. For a player is obsessed with what they can’t play. The orchestra they won’t get to hear.

If you choose to be played, give them a note – but not your best one. Save that for you. And let it carry on until you find the right musician who knows how to get the best performance out of you every time.

A player for a season. A musician for a lifetime.